Once upon a time, in a far away land so close to your distant heart, lived a boy named John.
It was windy where John stood. Windy and lonely. He looked down below at the crowd of gathering people, as they paniked and stared up at him. But the majority of city dwellers that passed along didn't even notice the strange spectecle of him and his lonesome position.
He leaned out a little farther to get a better look at the people who swarmed about like bees. As he did so, the few who gathered down below gasped in horror.
Leaning back he looked up at the sun as it set behind the stone horizon. He was nobody important. "I'm just an ant amongst stone men. It must be a lonely existence for a person of my kind." He said thoughtfully.
His mind wandered into the distance that his eyes could not see. "If I was a bird, I'd fly past the devil and poop on his head. Then I'd fly into a jet engine and call it-" Suicide..Suicide was his aim today. It had been his aim for the past eight years but today, he finally fit it into his schedule.
"Well, better give the crowd what they want." He sighed. He really did hate to waste people's time. His life alone had been a waste and sadly all the time that others invested in him was a waste also.
He looked once more at the slowly growing crowd of terrified people. "At this point," John said to himself,"I should probably be crying." He had seen all the movies. People crying right before death swooped them away into its loving arms.
But he didn't feel like crying. For the past eight years he had been drowning in tears and now he was dead. It was just time for his body to catch up with his soul. It was time.
The sirens sounded their desperate plea as a tall,slender, grey haired man spoke into a microphone. "Son, don't do this!" The man begged.But it was too late. John had made up his mind, and though naturally indecisive it was final in his mind. This was goodbye. Goodbye to loneliness. Goodbye to self hate. Goodbye to all that life was. Shit.
Standing up and stepping forward to the ledge, John pulled out his gun. The gun that his father beat him with. The same gun that accidentally killed his younger brother.It was his now. His savior.
He pointed it to his head and breathed sadly. "As of now, perhaps I should be saying my goodbyes." He always had the greatest of ideas.But today, his mind was blank. He couldn't think of anyone he loved enough to say goodbye to.He had no one.
And so there he stood. Not on your t.v screen on the evening news channel, headlining a story.Not in a picture frame with a smile on his face in his mothers arms. Not even in the hearts of all who was about to witness his greatest fall. He stood there, on a ledge of a building only in the eyesight of a faithful few.He might as well say goodbye to the one person he hoped would notice his death. "After all," he said, "Many sparrows have died today.Am I not worth more?" So at last he said goodbye to God.And that was that.
Squeezing the trigger there was no turning back. With only a faint bang heard in the ears of the few who remained to watch his fall, his body fell, tumbling softly through the chilled winter air. It delicatly traveresed the wind and its motions as its limp self hurtled twored the ground.
And in an instant an irreversable deed was done.
That is the story of John. That is how he died. Nobody shed a tear. Nobody blinked an eye.Nobody dared to cry. That was the story of John and his blessed suicide.
The end.
